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She swore she was training her chest.
Technically she was right.
Every rep the bar went up, but somehow the weight kept… migrating. Lower. Rounder. Less “muscle” and more “problem for the structural integrity of her sports bra.”
By the fifth set the kitsune glanced down, ears twitching, and muttered, “Okay, which one of you is doing the work here?”
The bar stayed silent. Her chest did not.
She added another plate.
For science.
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